


Incomplete Without You

by Istrael



Category: Bravely Default (Video Game) & Related Fandoms, The Birthday of the World and Other Stories - Ursula K. Le Guin
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Sedoretu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 20:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13621278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Istrael/pseuds/Istrael
Summary: The protagonists of Bravely Default wish to form a sedoretu, but there's one little issue: what is Ringabel's moiety?





	1. Knight falls; flames rise.

**Author's Note:**

> From Ursula K. Le Guin, _The Birthday of the World_ : "Note for readers unfamiliar with the planet O:
> 
> Ki'O society is divided into two halves or moieties, called (for ancient religious reasons) the Morning and the Evening. You belong to your mother's moiety, and you can't have sex with anybody of your moiety.
> 
> Marriage on O is a foursome, the sedoretu — a man and a woman from the Morning moiety and a man and a woman from the Evening moiety. You're expected to have sex with both your spouses of the other moiety, and not to have sex with your spouse of your own moiety. So each sedoretu has two expected heterosexual relationships, two expected homosexual relationships, and two forbidden heterosexual relationships.
> 
> The expected relationships within each sedoretu are:
> 
> The Morning woman and the Evening man (the "Morning marriage")
> 
> The Evening woman and the Morning man (the "Evening marriage")
> 
> The Morning woman and the Evening woman (the "Day marriage")
> 
> The Morning man and the Evening man (the "Night marriage")
> 
> The forbidden relationships are between the Morning woman and the Morning man, and between the Evening woman and the Evening man, and they aren't called anything, except sacrilege.
> 
> It's just as complicated as it sounds, but aren't most marriages?"
> 
> In this work, I am treating Luxendarc as one of potentially many planets with ancient ancestral and cultural roots tracing back to the planet O, meaning that the Morning and Evening moieties and the sedoretu marriage norms are thriving components of Luxendarc culture, held as standard in every region of Luxendarc.

**Knight falls; flames rise.**

When the fallen man awakens for the first time, he knows very little about himself. He lies encased in the crumpled remains of a suit of magnificently ornate armour, its metal a strange matte black that swallows light and reflects nothing. As he peels the hopelessly damaged helmet off his head, he notes that the armour even seems to swallow sound, never clinking or rattling as he struggles without assistance to unclasp and unbuckle each neatly interlocking component. Truly, the only undamaged thing here is the man himself (apart from a truly vicious headache)... and the black leatherbound journal with a large silver symbol on the cover. He almost fails to notice it, mistaking the sharp corner digging into his back for yet another piece of armour. 

"I wonder if that's a 'P' or a 'D,'" he muses aloud. "Oh, my. Is that what my voice sounds like? How... mellifluous. I wonder if I was an actor. That would explain the strange costume, I suppose."

He stands up carefully, an unexpected solidity and strength - grace, even - guiding his movements. He peels off one gauntlet and looks at his hand, finding his palm covered in calluses, his fingernails short, his knuckles laced with faint scarring. 

"Or some manner of fighter, perhaps? Unless actors habitually get into tavern brawls." He freezes, a snapping twig drawing his attention sharply to the fact that something or someone is approaching from behind him. "Hello?" His hand suddenly itches for a sword, though he has none on his person. _The 'fighter' theory is looking more accurate by the moment,_ he thinks, as his body reflexively drops into a deceptively relaxed posture, his balance shifting to the balls of his feet. He slips the gauntlet back on quickly, appreciative of the row of jagged spikes along his forearm, in lieu of any other weapon.

A green creature half his height emerges from the shadows, wielding a wooden club. It stares quizzically at the man for a moment, before its eyes begin to glow red, and it charges at him, brandishing the club. 

The man feels something like a trance overtaking him, and he allows it to happen, holding his conscious attention back as the casual observer. He watches his body dodge, feint, and throw punches and elbow strikes with ruthless efficiency. The goblin finally collapses, outmatched and overwhelmed. The man isn't even out of breath. He quickly loots the unconscious goblin's purse, finding a handful of local coin - no doubt stolen from hapless travelers through this area - and simple travel supplies: a tinderbox, a canteen, a compass, a pocket watch. He takes a look at his surroundings properly for the first time, noting that he is at the bottom of a large circular chasm of some sort. The night sky overhead is filled with starlight, but the chasm walls are steep and high, with only one narrow path for ascending without climbing equipment. 

"I suppose there's nothing to do for it; I'll just have to get out that way." He starts up the path.

~~~

Several hours later, the man is settled in at the tavern in Caldisla, answering what little he knows about the Norende Ravine.

"Sorry, the _what_ ravine?" 

"Norende. Little farm town. Ring a bell?" The bartender has repeated that last phrase so many times in the past hour, it's starting to feel like a name.

"No, I'm afraid it doesn't," Ringabel answers. "I don't recognise any of the names you have mentioned so far. I just climbed out of that pit and headed toward the source of light in the distance, which turned out to be this lovely city. I'm lucky I was able to do even that much, if my memory is this damaged; I suspect I hit my head quite hard."

"No kidding. You say you don't even know what your moiety is?"

"That's right; I truly don't know which half of the population would claim me."

"Well, you don't really have any obvious characteristics that point to Morning or Evening, either way. Maybe you can talk to the Vestal and have her adopt you to her moiety?"

"The Vestal? Do you mean Agnès Oblige of the Temple of Wind?"

"That's the one. I hear she's in town as of recently, investigating that ravine you fell into. She'll probably wanna' talk to you eventually, since you were there. How do you know of her, if you don't remember who you are?"

Ringabel holds up the journal. "She's mentioned in here, and there's a drawing; let me just-" he shuffles through the pages until he finds a tidy ink and charcoal rendering of a fine-featured young woman in a white gown, with long dark hair. "Here. That's her, right?"

"I've only seen her once, and at a distance, but yeah, that looks like her," the bartender says. "Anyway, there are four Vestals, one for each of the four elemental crystal temples. The Vestals are always a specific moiety, depending on their temple. Wind and Water are from the Evening moiety, while Fire and Earth are from the Morning moiety. They can adopt you into their respective moieties, if you're an orphan or don't officially have one, for whatever reason. That's what foreigners do, when they migrate here from other worlds like Gaia, Spira, Eos, Earth, and Vana'diel. I recommend you get around to it eventually, because people are gonna' be pretty uncomfortable around you, if they don't know which moiety you are."

"I suppose I ought to, yes," Ringabel muses, while contemplating that now he has _two_ reasons to consult the Wind Vestal: both to warn her of the fairy's treachery, and to join a moiety in accordance to local custom. 

"You got someplace to stay? There's a vacant house across town, I hear. The whole family died in a goblin attack a week ago, and the locals were quick to pick their place over for valuables - bleedin' scavengers, the lot of 'em - but I reckon no one'll mind if you crash there until you get your feet back under you. Nobody properly owns the place, see, and it's thought to be haunted, so I think it'll calm folks down if somebody takes up livin' there again."

"Help me make certain I understand you correctly, please," Ringabel says. "You suggest I act as a squatter in the potentially-haunted former residence of a murdered family?"

"Yeah, that's about the gist of it," the bartender nods. "Better you than a gang of thugs. You seem like you can handle yourself; you made your way here all the way from what's left of Norende, without help or weapons. I don't think anyone's gonna' mess with you, even if you are a bit too pretty for your own good."

"I'm pretty?" Ringabel gasps, delighted. "Do you have a mirror? Please, sir; I don't know what I look like." 

The bartender gestures to a full-length mirror propped up against one of the back walls of the tavern, and Ringabel hurries over to get a look at himself. He turns this way and that, leaning in close, then stepping farther back and squinting. 

"My wardrobe could use some work - which is to be expected - but I daresay you're _right._ Pretty. Gracious, what a development!" Ringabel returns to the bar and takes a long pull of his drink, abruptly in rather high spirits. "You're certain it will not be a problem if I stay in the abandoned house?"

"I mean, you'll have to fend for yourself if anybody tries to take it from you, since it's not like you have a deed to the place... but yeah, there's nothing in the law that says you can't do that. I would've recommended the Inn instead, but I'm not sure the Innkeeper would feel very neighbourly about you showing up with no memory, no moiety, and not much coin. It's nothin' personal; you'd just be bad for business, there, and I don't wanna' make an enemy out of a business that's very cooperative with mine, if you catch my drift."

"I catch it entirely, sir; think nothing of it. In your position I expect I'd do the same." Ringabel pays his tab for the night and heads back out into the city, in the direction the bartender pointed him to go. He finds the empty house quickly. The door isn't bolted; there is no light inside. He lets himself in, calling "Hello?" as he does, just in case the place is already spoken for.

There is no answer, no sound at all. Ringabel searches around the first room carefully by touch, eventually finding a fireplace and using his secondhand tinderbox to light a pleasant blaze in the hearth. The room is sparsely furnished, everything of value having already been stripped away, but the place is warm enough and peaceful enough to suit Ringabel. He moves a chair to block the door, finding the lock on it entirely destroyed. He moves a straw pallet from one of the bedrooms, to set it before the hearth, and after reading the rest of D's Journal twice more, memorising as much as he can, he settles in to take his rest.

~~~

When Ringabel awakens, the house is catching fire. He hastily grabs D's Journal and hurls himself out the open window, tucking and rolling to his feet. He hops up and swats sparks off his vest, cursing eloquently before watching in shocked indignation as his one-night residence is engulfed in vast orange flames. A crowd gathers quickly, a blanket draping around Ringabel's shoulders and a mug of hot tea pressing into his hands. The locals seem wary of him - word of his lack of moiety has spread quickly - but their discomfort is secondary to their urge to help.

At first, rumours circle about the inferno being the work of angry spirits, then local thugs, but it isn't long before Ominas Crowe appears, standing on the deck of a small Eternian airship. Crowe threatens the Caldislans with more burning houses, if the Wind Vestal is not surrendered to his custody by nightfall of the next day. As the airship speeds away, a young woman Ringabel recognises appears in the crowd, accompanied by a young man wearing the simple clothing of a farmer. The woman is shaking with fury, fear, and sadness, and Ringabel immediately feels the urge to rush to her side and offer his assistance. After pondering it for only a moment, he decides not to resist the urge.

"Agnès Oblige! Lady Vestal, excuse me!" Ringabel wends his way through the crowd, still draped in a borrowed blanket, the mug of tea cooling in his hands. 

"Oh dear, was that your house that burned? I'm so sorry for your loss; I do not understand what that man wants with me. If he had just asked nicely, I would have gone along..." Agnès' confused grief is written in every line of her posture.

"Dear lady, I was staying there, but that house did not belong to me; I can assure you nobody was hurt in that fire. It is clear you are innocent of this wrong. I am actually hoping to discuss other matters with you, if you can spare a few moments of your time. Both of you, actually - you and Mister Arrior," Ringabel adds, looking Tiz in the eye. It's an educated guess; the Journal didn't have a drawing of Tiz, but it mentioned he would be in Agnès' company. "I believe I may know more about what is going on here, if you would allow me to share what I know."

Tiz looks at Ringabel warily, then looks back at Agnès, who nods at Tiz. 

"Alright," the two say simultaneously, before glancing at each other again and blushing fiercely. "What is your name, sir?" Agnès asks.

"You may call me Ringabel, Miss Oblige."

"Just Agnès, please." 

"Of course. Where are you both staying? We should get out of this crowd, before they get unfortunate ideas about what that Sky Knight was saying, and how that pertains to you."

"He's right," Tiz says. "They're getting antsy. Let's get back to the Inn. Ringabel, you can stay in our room, but Agnès gets the bed."

"Naturally, I would never have suggested otherwise," Ringabel responds. "Lead the way. I'll take up the rear, to make sure we are not followed."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to play with continuity a bit: this version of the story is one of the many "iterations" of Airy's manipulation of the main cast, rather than the "iteration" played during the game itself. You are welcome to interpret this as an earlier iteration, or as a later one if the protagonists had failed their mission in the original gameplay. In this version, Ringabel is a little smarter, a little faster to put the pieces together, and a lot bolder at disrupting Airy's goals; Agnès is a lot more circumspect and willing to listen to advice other than Airy's.

At Ringabel's last-minute request, the trio stop at the supply shop in town, before returning to the Inn. Ringabel looks through the shelf of monogrammed blank books, swiftly finding one suitable for his purposes. He buys it (and, after a bit of consideration, a few units of Phoenix Down) with the last of the goblin's money, and then they make their way over to the Inn.

Ringabel recognises Airy immediately, though he doesn't let it show on his face when entering Tiz' and Agnès' room at the Inn. Airy, on the other hand, immediately radiates distrust and contempt for Ringabel.

"What is _he_ doing here?" Airy points an accusatory finger at Ringabel.

"His house just burned down, Airy, and the man who burned it down is hunting for me. The least I can do is put him up for the night," Agnès answers, her tone gentle but full of finality. "And the least you can do is be polite about it."

"Er... have you two met before?" Tiz asks.

"NO," Airy snaps, in the same instant Ringabel replies, "Yes, we have."

Three pairs of eyes swivel sharply to face Ringabel, one of them openly malicious, the other two confused but interested.

"That is to say, while my own memory is full of holes due to a nasty fall I suffered recently - I woke up at the bottom of the Norende Ravine, just a day ago - I absolutely do recognise you, Airy, and I don't think these two are going to enjoy hearing what I have to tell them about your role in recent and future events." 

"I-" Airy looks around, virtually vibrating with shock and fury, "I don't know _what_ he's talking about!" 

Ringabel pulls a black and silver book out of his vest and holds it up in front of them. 

"Then you won't mind at all if I show every single word of this to Agnès Oblige, hmn?" Ringabel smirks at Airy.

Time seems to contract in the small hotel room. Airy's white aura turns red, and in a flash of power and rage, she sends a bolt of magical fire straight at the book in Ringabel's hand, disintegrating it in an instant.

" _Airy!_ What are-" Agnès gasps, before a second bolt of fire strikes Ringabel himself, killing him instantly.

Agnès shrieks. Airy looks down at her own hands, seeming shocked at what she has just done. Tiz is on his feet and standing between Agnès and Airy, guarding the Vestal as much as his mortal frame can allow. Airy is dodging and darting around the room, trying to get Agnès to look at her.

"I- he's evil! He would have hurt you! You have to believe me! Tiz, get out of the way! She needs to believe me!"

"I'm not going anywhere," Tiz says through clenched teeth, "and I'm not leaving you alone with Agnès, ever. You just killed an innocent man. For what, Airy?"

"Ohh, I don't need you. We don't need you! I can protect Agnès by myself!" Airy hurls another bolt of fire, this time at Tiz' chest, and the young man crumples to the floor, while Agnès screams again. 

"Airy, _how could you?_ " Agnès throws herself across Tiz' body and sobs, searching his neck and wrist for a pulse, and finding none. "He's my friend. He was my only friend." 

"Now I can be your only friend, Agnès," Airy says brightly, a manic glee written all over her tiny face. "These stupid boys were just going to get in our way. They aren't committed to reviving the sacred crystals, like we are, Agnès. They'd pollute the crystals just by looking at them. Now you can focus properly on fulfilling your destiny!"

Agnès trembles, and her voice is weak and ragged, but a single word passes clearly off her tongue. " _No._ "

"What?" Airy tilts her head, puzzled.

"I said no. This isn't what Crystalism is about. We don't... we don't murder innocent people. We don't kill our friends. You aren't my friend, Airy. You're a _monster._ "

"Agnès, don't be ridiculous."

"Get away from me, you monster!" Agnès yells. A thunder of footsteps have come running up the stairs of the Inn, by now, and several of the Inn's staff force open the door.

"Lady Vestal, is everyth- oh great heavens! Call the healer! We need a White Mage!" 

"Airy, get out," Agnès says. "You can't just kill all these people, too. I'll never follow you again. Get out!"

Airy looks at Agnès, shocked and furious. "Yes, I can, but I won't keep wasting my time on you. You're a pathetic little girl, and there are three other Vestals I can use, instead of you." Airy dashes out the open door and disappears into the night.

The Innkeeper sees something red and gold tucked into Ringabel's clenched hand. "Is that-" a burst of swirling golden light fills the room, and Ringabel pulls himself cautiously to an upright position, before dragging himself over to Tiz' corpse and pressing another Phoenix Down against Tiz' still-warm skin. The golden light flashes once more, and Tiz is blearily looking around.

"What happened?" Tiz asks. "Agnès, why are you crying?"

Agnès lets out another sob and throws her arms around Tiz, burying her face in the side of his neck.

"She killed you, Airy killed you, killed Ringabel and you, and she left. _Monster._ Are you hurt?" She looks Tiz up and down, patting his arms and shoulders as though searching for damage. He shakes his head.

"I'm feeling fine, just really disoriented. Is Ringabel-?"

"Over here and perfectly hale and hearty," Ringabel replies; "and very grateful that you care enough to ask, truly, Mister Arrior." He looks up at the gawking crowd that has formed in the door of their room. "Thank you all for coming to check on us. There was a... disagreement, you might say. A difference of opinions pertaining to theological matters, and our fairy companion was overly enthusiastic in demonstrating her views. There is no further need for a healer; please don't let us keep you from your beds."

The crowd looks questioningly at Agnès and Tiz, who nod weakly in agreement and wave the crowd away. Once the door closes, Ringabel pulls D's Journal out from inside his vest, dusting the ashes of the decoy diary off his hands.

"I had a feeling, you see, that Airy might get violent about having the truth about her unveiled, so I came prepared for just this sort of unpleasantness. I would very much appreciate if the two of you would read this volume thoroughly tonight, before retiring to sleep. It is of life-and-death importance to you both, and to me, and in fact to our entire world. I believe it is from the future, although I also believe I have altered that future through tonight's events, though I do not know how. At any rate, Airy is not at all what she has presented herself to be, Lady Vestal, and we shall need to work together to thwart the evil she is attempting to enact upon the world."

Ringabel holds the journal out to both of them, a solemnly hopeful look on his face. Agnès and Tiz are both still in shock about Airy's sudden violence, but they sense no deception in Ringabel.

"Even if you came prepared, you literally died to bring this information to me," Agnès says, her voice still cracking with hurt and fear. "I have to take this seriously. I swear I will read everything written in this book that you say is from the future. Tiz?" 

"I'll read it, too," Tiz nods. "I'll be honest: I never really trusted Airy. She didn't like me and Agnès being alone with each other for more than a minute or two, and she's always been pushy and hasty, not giving us time to think for ourselves. She's also clearly got some really powerful magic, even though she never used any of it to protect Agnès at all, and left the fighting to the two of us. I can't believe she has ever had your best interests in mind, Agnès."

"You're right, Tiz," she says. "The more I look back on how Airy has treated me, the more obvious it is that I've been a fool to listen to her."

"No," Ringabel says. "None of this is your fault, Agnès. You are a good person. She has been trying to use you for her own ends, but it's your goodness that she is abusing. Please do not blame yourself. So far, she has not yet been able to use you to do harm."

"But she would have?" Agnès sounds so small, and Ringabel and Tiz both surrender to the urgent impulse to put their arms protectively around her - or rather, Tiz cradles Agnès to his chest, and Ringabel wraps his arms around both of them. It feels natural, and Tiz makes brief eye contact with Ringabel, clearly thinking the same thing: there is a rightness to this closeness, even though they don't yet know each other.

"Yes, she would have," Ringabel says gently. "You'll find it all in the journal. Both of you go ahead and catch yourselves up, and I'll see about bringing some supper up here for us all to eat. That way you have some time without me here, to discuss things without me listening, if you'd like."

Tiz and Agnès look to each other, a silent question passing between them as Ringabel stands and makes for the door. Once again, they speak simultaneously.

"No." 

"That... won't be necessary," Tiz adds. "I mean, you can go ahead and get some food; that sounds amazing."

"Coming back to life is hungry work," Ringabel jokes, wincing almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth, but Tiz nods firm agreement.

"Yeah, it is. What I mean is, I think we're both... we're going to trust you until we have more reasons not to. It's like Agnès said. You died to get this book to us. We don't want you on the outside of our plans, if you're here to help. If we want some privacy, we'll tell you first, but you don't have to keep a distance. Everything you've done so far has been about giving us choices and time to think on those choices, and that's the opposite of Airy. We _want_ to trust you."

Ringabel feels tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, and he looks away quickly. _Apparently I am a bit of a stoic. Interesting._ "I'll just pop on down to the kitchen and see what I can scrounge up for us. I won't be long."

~~~

When Ringabel returns to their room with a tray piled high with pastries, fruit, and his canteen full of coffee slung over one shoulder, he finds Tiz and Agnès looking pale and serious.

"I'm sorry for taking so long; they don't keep the kitchen staffed at night, so I had to whip these up myself. It turns out I can cook! I never would have guessed it. Anyway, have you finished reading?"

"Yes; we just got done." Tiz reaches for a plate and loads it with goodies, immediately handing it off to Agnès, before preparing one for himself.

"Tiz, there's no way I can eat all of this!" she objects. 

"Worry not, dear lady; anything you don't eat, we can pack along with us when we leave here," Ringabel says. "We're going to need to meet up with Edea Lee, as I'm sure you have also concluded."

"We hadn't talked about it yet," Tiz says, "but that does seem like a good idea, yeah. If we approach the Eternian Sky Knights with the information we have here in this journal, I think they might help us stop Airy before she can reach one of the other Vestals and exploit her the way she did Agnès." 

"We're going to have to fight our way into their graces, you know," Ringabel says.

"Yeah, I figured as much," says Tiz. "It'll take some convincing, and they won't want to listen at all, at first. They'll just be trying to apprehend us, maybe even kill us."

"It's Agnès they're after, so as long as we can keep her out of Eternian clutches long enough to negotiate a parley, we should be able to get Edea's attention. Agnès, what do you think?" Both men turn to look at the Vestal, who has already cleared her plate and gone back for second helpings, surprised at her hunger after such a stressful day and night.

"I think we can't do anything without the Escalot and Edea on our side. Now that we know so much of what we have to face, we can prepare ourselves, and not be caught off guard the way we would have been. I do believe the journal is from the future; there are details in here about the political situation in Ancheim, that you could not have possibly known about without being there very recently. It is a small city, and I have never seen you there, Ringabel. You certainly did not have enough time to gain this up-to-date information, journey to Norende to investigate the ravine, journey here to Caldisla, and write all these things down in addition to the rest of the journal's length, before meeting Tiz and me when you did. Some of the things written here amount to Ancheim state secrets and Harena's deeply mysterious mythic history, which I only know myself by virtue of being the head of Harena's largest religious organisation. It is all completely unfalsifiable."

"On top of that," Tiz adds, "it'll be easy to just see how events pan out, to prove the journal is right or wrong about things. Some of that stuff in there won't be changed, even though our plans are changed by exposing Airy. Weather events will be the easiest proof; you documented each day's weather in careful detail."

"So we're... believing me, then?" Ringabel asks, daring to hope he understood them right.

"We're believing you," they answer.

"Now let's get some sleep," Tiz says. "We'll head to Centro Keep in the morning."

Agnès settles into the bed, and Tiz and Ringabel share the futon on the floor.


End file.
